


it's a bad, bad, bad day (or something)

by schwanenkoenigin



Category: Fifth Harmony (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-15 16:40:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13617396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schwanenkoenigin/pseuds/schwanenkoenigin
Summary: prompt: person a (camila) is riding the back of a shopping cart in the grocery store parking lot, and accidentally runs into person b (lauren)'s car





	it's a bad, bad, bad day (or something)

**Author's Note:**

> hello i am back with some trash. 
> 
> the prompt was taken from the 'wlwprompts' tumblr, and the title was very obviously stolen from the season 6 finale of charmed

Camila loves going out to buy groceries. Always. Especially with her family or her friends. To her, there is something incredibly calming about going through the different aisles, and finding new stuff that you haven’t tried yet, as well as adding familiar things to your cart. Yeah, Camila loves shopping.

Just not _today_.

Today has been a _really_ shitty day, and all she wants is for it to be over. She can’t bring herself to enjoy a single minute of something she’d usually look forward to doing all day.

All she does is follow her parents around the store, ready go home. Her head is down, her hands are in the pockets of her jeans, and she wants _so badly_ to just drive back, run to her room, throw herself on the bed. Bury her face in her fluffiest pillow. Cry.

The day actually had started okay. She’d gotten up on time, managed not to spill milk all over herself during breakfast, and she’d left the house at a reasonable time. Everything was great. She’d looked forward to coming home from work, spent, but still happy to buy food and snacks.

Until she realized she’d forgotten her key on the counter.

Alright, so _that_  really was only a minor setback. She’d rolled her eyes at herself—because, see, losing keys? That’s just what Camila Cabello does, every now and then—but she hadn’t beaten herself up over it.

Fortunately enough, all went well after that.

Until... it didn’t.

During her shift, it had started raining, and, being the non-weather forecast watcher that she is, she hadn’t brought an umbrella. That did make her groan, but she guessed that, _hey_ , taxis exist. And they exist so one can use them. So she went to fish her cell out if her purse to call a cab. And she quickly realized that, for some reason, said phone had run out of battery, and she was already a block from the office, and she really did not want to go back just to call a cab.

So, in the middle of the pouring rain, she had to stop. To think. Walking home didn’t even take long, but with–

She remembers tiredly running her hand through her hair, coming to the conclusion that she’d simply have to wait for the shower to be over in one of the various cafés in the area.

Which would have been great. Perfect.

Had she not forgotten her goddamn wallet as well. Which made taking any sort of public transportation just as impossible. At that point, she’d gotten really frustrated, and realized that maybe she’d have to go home right away after all. She was already freezing, though, and—honestly? Kind of in the mood to cry.

She had always been clumsy, forgetful, and all that other jazz, but this was exceptionally ridiculous.

She had, obviously, gotten home at some point. Had gotten _inside_ , too. With blue lips, though, and feet that could have been mistaken for ice blocks. Trembling all over.

Not even showering had helped her get in the mood for shopping.

So, yeah, here she is. In the _worst_ mood.

“Mija, we’ll be done in a minute,” her mother assures her when she notices Camila's expression, trying to lift her mood. She even caresses her cheek and gives her a hug, but it doesn't help.

“That’s what you said half an hour ago,” Camila whines into her mom’s shoulder. She doesn’t want to roll her eyes at her mother, she really doesn’t, but—today? Right now? She can’t promise anything.

Sinu sighs and breaks the hug. “Do you want to push the cart? Maybe having something to do will distract you.”

Camila contemplates it for a second. Whenever she hears the words ‘having something to do may help,’ she kind of wants to punch the person in the face, but in this case, her mother may be right. Maybe having to make sure the cart doesn’t hit the can soup can tower straight on will give her a break from going over the day over and over again. So she agrees, shrugging. “Yeah, alright.”

Her mom smiles at her, and Camila smiles back, exhausted.

Her mom turns out to be right. Which Camila kind of hates, if she’s honest, but—yeah, it helps. Her thoughts, from then on, aren’t primarily occupied by all the ways she’s fucked up today anymore.

After her mom has paid, she thanks her. Almost timidly says, “Okay, so maybe it worked.” She doesn’t dare look into her eyes, knowing she’s going to get teased.

The teasing never comes. Instead, she’s pulled into another hug. She squeaks, taken by surprise. “I don’t like when you’re sad.”

Camila leans back. “Let’s just get home, okay?”

Her mom nods, and Camila takes the cart, runs toward their car with it. She really cannot wait to get home.

And, honestly, what movie has ever depicted riding the back of a shopping cart as something potentially day-ruining? That’s right, never. It’s harmless fun, it has— temporarily, maybe—taken the somewhat dark thoughts from her brain, and she doesn’t waste one second on how she can even do damage doing this, having fun. To her, it’s been nothing but day- _saving_.

She’s actually grinning by the time she crosses the parking lot.

But she _is_ Camila Cabello, and everything has been going a little _too_ well since she started doing this, so of course she has to run into someone's car while trying to make her own day slightly better.

She cries out in pain as she hits the car, flinches at the sound of metal hitting metal.

“What the _fuck_?” the black BMW's owner shouts upon noticing what the young girl has—accidentally, but they probably won't care if she says this—done to it. “I literally just got this! My employer is going to kill me!” the person keeps ranting, frowning and shaking their head.

Camila is too dumbstruck—and too on the floor, really—to do anything. She's fallen off of the back of the cart, so now she's sitting in the middle of the lot, lost as hell, with her butt aching. She watches the stranger curse, but can't mutter an apology just yet, she's too ashamed. Too in pain. Her head feels like it's about to explode. Why does she always have to have such luck? She’s pretty sure she’s about to cry.

And once she hears her mom approach the scene, frantically wanting to know what’s happened—yep, she starts crying.

Through the tears, she looks up for the first time, trying to find her mother, but all she sees is the stranger. A stranger who’s goddamn pretty. She should have guessed. Of course they are—because who else but Camila Cabello would meet someone pretty in such a terrible way, breaking their car, falling on her ass, crying for her mother?

“You’re going to pay for this,” the stranger says, then, this time pointing in Camila's direction. So, like, at the ground.

Wasn’t there a One Direction song about this?

Camila suddenly bursts out laughing at the thought. Everyone who’s noticed the scenario probably thinks she’s insane by now—even her mom—but, God, today is just such a goddamn mess and her emotions are completely out of control. It’s the sleep deprivation.

Sue her.

Oh, boy. Her laughter stops. She blinks a few times, rubs at her eyes, and looks up. Gets up, too, eventually, when Sinu offers her a hand and a sympathetic smile.

Sue.

Sued.

She’s going to be sued.

She doesn’t have that kind of money. So she says the first thing that enters her mind. “Please don’t sue me.” Very forward, very effective. She bites her lip, doesn’t dare look at the black-haired person in front of her.

They’re silent for a second, possibly taken aback by the statement

In the meanwhile, Camila gives her mom a subtle sign to signal her it’s alright to go back to the car. She mouths, “It’s okay,” and Sinu actually does leave.

See, it’s just very embarrassing to have your mother in situations like these. Comforting, maybe, but mainly embarrassing.

Camila _is_ twenty-two.

While she’s busy watching her mom leave the scene, the BMW’s owner inspects the damage. “Holy God,” they shriek, “she's going to kill me.” They repeat the same thing over and over again as they’re visibly panicking—they’ve started pacing up and down next to the car. “This is a mess.”

Camila finally remembers that she’s an actual person. Who still hasn’t apologized. For doing something bad. And so she starts, “I– God, I am so sorry.” She walks closer to them, gets a good look at what she’s actually done.

It looks really bad.

“Shit,” she curses upon her discoveries. She brings her hand up to her face, and starts biting her nails. She’s so nervous right now. What if this person does sue her? Again, she does absolutely  _not_ have that money. The car looks awfully expensive, and the fixing would probably cost–

“I don’t–” the stranger leans against the side of the car, closes their eyes, and tries to breathe normally.

Camila stares, not quite knowing what to say. Plus, she’s busy with her nails anyway. Ashamed doesn’t even begin to cover what she’s currently feeling. She kind of wants the ground to swallow her up. But this is real life, and it goes on, and– God, maybe she should stop fidgeting and just, well, say something. Something helpful, too, maybe. So she looks up at the person, takes another step towards them. Ready to apologise. Offer her help. Anything. Anything productive. Maybe. “Holy shit,” she breathes instead, “you’re gorgeous.”

The stranger knits their eyebrows, and opens their eyes. They’re super green, and Camila wishes she weren’t here. Couldn’t she have met them in a club that Dinah had forced her to go to that one time? Or on a summer vacation? Anything would have been better than this disaster.

“I’m sorry,” she immediately apologizes again as her hands cover her entire face—she’s blushing, and it’s not your normal sunset shade, it’s full-on traffic light—and she shakes her head. Why, why, _why_? Why is this happening to her?

It comes as the most surprising thing ever when the stranger suddenly starts chuckling. They look even more beautiful with a smile on their face, and for a second, Camila is so in awe that she absolutely doesn’t care about how inappropriate her thoughts are for a situation like this. This person is so, so pretty, and she needs to admire them for as long as she can. Which, with her luck, and especially with the day she’s had, won't be for long.

God—those eyes, though. So bright, with laughter in them. So green. And their voice—what she’s heard of it, anyway—is so– so– it’s raspy and low and, damn, they really are beautiful all over.

Camila has gone through an entire month of emotions, and right now, she’s sure she could compete with the heart-eyed emoji she loves so much.

“This is ridiculous,” she mumbles to herself. She straightens her back and pulls herself out of the dream world she’s been lost in. “Okay–” she can somehow collect herself enough to say her words– “here’s the deal. Well, technically it’s not a deal, it’s just—well, whatever.” She clears her throat awkwardly. “I ran into your car, and obviously that’s, like, not great.” She internally rolls her eyes. Who _says_ that?  “The thing is, though, whatever you expect me to pay for this? I don’t have it. Probably. I mean have you looked at your car? It’s– it’s– holy _shit_! I mean–” Running her fingers through her hair, she sighs. God, she hopes the person is listening. And not making fun of her as she speaks. “I can’t really offer any solutions, which is also, like, not cool but I just–” A groan leaves her mouth and as she peeks at the black-haired beauty, for a second, she swears she catches an amused smile. She’s too embarrassed to look again, though. “I just want to say this—I’m really, incredibly sorry. I just– I had a bad day, and my mom convinced me to have some fun. Which is why I was riding the back of–” she gestures to the cart– “that thing.” She bites her lip for a moment. “Anyway, I know that that doesn’t change anything or cover the damage but– I need you to know I didn’t do it, like, on purpose. Which—why would anyone do something like this on purpose, right?” She scoffs to highlight her words. “Um–” Why does she always ramble so much? Goddamn it.

At this point, she wouldn’t be surprised if the stranger laughed in her face and just took off.

Well—they don’t.

Instead, they finally start talking. “Listen– I didn’t mean to snap like that, either. Like I said, I just got the car and I was a little out if it. Obviously I didn’t think someone would run into it within the first week.”

Camila blushes.

“With a shopping cart, no less.”

The blush deepens, and even though she’s still not looking at the person in front of her, she can definitely make out the slightly amused tone at the mention of the cart.

They chuckle. “Don’t worry, though. I’ve been thinking about it in the past few minutes and—well, let’s just say I’m pretty confident that my boss isn’t going to make me sue you.” There’s a wink, and Camila happens to catch a glimpse of it, because of course she looks up right now, and, maybe, she’s going to faint. “Seriously, it’s all good. I appreciate your apology, and I accept it. I hope you accept mine, too.”

Without missing a beat, Camila replies, “Yeah.” It’s breathless. _God, that wink_.

“Good. I was hoping you’d say that. ‘Cause you’re kind of cute.”

Camila’s head snaps up, and her eyes grow wide. “What?”

“You heard me,” comes the answer, and it’s wrapped in raspy laughter. “I’m Lauren, by the way.”

Not sure if this is reality or a fantasy, Camila just stands there, shocked. Staring ahead. Blinking occasionally. At one point, apparently, it gets so bad that the person—Lauren—steps closer, and puts an arm on hers. Asks her,

“Are you alright?” in a worried tone.

Finally, with the touch, the weird—it’s a good kind of weird—sensation that comes with it, she enters the real world again. “I’m Camila,” she says, almost robot-like.

“Camila?” Lauren repeats, and Camila nods. “I like that.”

It sounds so good from her mouth, so natural, that Camila– she can’t process any of this. “Pinch me,” she says—demands—then, referring to and looking at the hand that’s still holding on to her lower arm.

“Excuse me?”

“Pinch me.”

She’s met with an irritated expression.

“Just do it, I need to check if this is real. So pinch me,” Camila explains.

“I’m not going to pinch you,” Lauren protests. Suddenly, her hand is gone.

So Camila pinches herself. “Ow!” She holds onto the patch of skin, trying to soothe it. “Ha!” she makes once it’s stopped stinging. _Okay, now, how about you explain yourself, maybe?_ “I just–” She blushes again—God, she can’t remember ever having been this red before—and continues, “I couldn’t believe– this is such a disaster. Like, I couldn’t believe I have the luck to run into someone’s car just to have them tell me I’m cute. I never have good luck. I’m always stuck with the bad luck. Sometimes I feel like I’m constantly in between minutes twenty-five and thirty-five of literally any Charmed episode.” She rolls her eyes at the reference. What the hell? Who says things like that? “What I’m saying is–”

“Sh,” Lauren interrupts her, stepping closer and closer to her until she’s trapped. Her back hits the car, and she– “I get you, Camz. If you stop talking right now, though—and not because I don’t enjoy your flustered state, I very much do, I just really need to get home and pee—I’ll take you on a date.”

“ _What_?” Camila is very sure, by now, that this is some surreal fantasy she’s making up in her head—about someone she’s once passed at the store—as she’s lying in her bed with a bad fever she’s caught. How could this be remotely real? Her day can’t have turned–

“Just say yes,” Lauren pleads.

“I–” Has she finally gotten into the last five minutes of the episode? “I– um– yeah, I mean, sure,” she stutters, dumbstruck from the question, still.

The reaction is instantaneous. The woman starts grinning, saying, “Great, just give me your phone. For my number and all. I’ll text you the details.”

All Camila can do is reach into her pocket to get her (fortunataly now charged) phone out, more or less emotionless from the present shock. (She’ll get over it once she’s back at home later. This needs time to sink.) She gives it to her counterpart—soon-to-be date—and watches her hurriedly type in her number. She gets her phone back, then, and–

She also receives a kiss on the cheek that makes her knees weak.

“I’ll see you around, Camila.” With these words, the woman pulls away, makes her way around the car—finally separating the cart from the BMW—and gets in. Camila is almost too zoned out to get away from it—thereby almost getting hit—but eventually backs off, watching—staring—as Lauren drives off, leaving the parking lot.

“Oh, my God,” she mumbles to herself as she walks over to where her mom is in their own car, listening to their favorite band. “Mom?” she says, looking at her mother on the driver’s seat.

“Yes?”

“Please, from now on, when I have a bad day, just take me home. Never make me do that again.” Seriously, what the hell has just happened?

“It seems to me, however, that you’ve found quite the distraction after all.” Camila doesn’t technically need to look at her to know she has the biggest grin on her face.

“Shut up!” she complains. “Don’t be so smug. Let’s just drive home. I need to wrap my head around this.”

“Alright.”

“Thank you.” Camila, having gotten in by now, puts her seatbelt on, ready to stare out the window during the entire drive; ready to try and get herself to believe that, no, the day she’s had is not something she came up with in a dream after seeing a really bad movie. It’s _real_. It started out alright, got bad, became worse, and ended up almost being a complete and utter disaster. Instead, now, it’s—dare she say okay?

“Still,” her mom interrupts her thoughts after a while, “aren’t you glad you’ve–”

“ _Mom_!”

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you liked it


End file.
